


Fetherston versus Newkirk

by Avirra



Series: Hogan's Heroes - Genesis of the Team [2]
Category: Hogan's Heroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 12:44:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2192313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avirra/pseuds/Avirra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>RAF officer Fetherston is continuing and escalating his campaign against Corporal Newkirk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

LeBeau and Kinchloe were waiting rather impatiently for Newkirk's latest release from the Cooler. All of the other prisoners in the area were giving the pair a wide berth. The Frenchman was already well known to have a quick, volatile temperament and, while his American friend usually seemed calm enough on the outside, the escalating situation with English corporal had Kinch close to snapping the head off of anyone that looked at him wrong these days.

When Schultz finally came into sight with Newkirk beside him, most of the pent up tension in the camp decreased dramatically. At least unless the area around the Senior British POW was taken into account. Fetherston didn't even bother to attempt to hide his displeasure at the sight of the brash Cockney who was joking along with Schultz before moving to greet LeBeau and Kinchloe enthusiastically. Looking forward to getting back together with his best friends was how Newkirk managed to get himself through stay after stay in the Cooler - which he tended to now refer to as his _'ome away from 'ome._

Kinch saw the look that Fetherston was shooting at Newkirk and he glared back at the RAF officer with a pure burning hatred easy to see in his eyes. That same look was mirrored in LeBeau's. Fetherston had had it in for Newkirk before, but since he'd found a support network in the short Frenchman and the black American, Fetherston seemed to have made it into his life's work to make sure that Newkirk's confinement at Stalag 13 was as miserable as he could possibly make it. It was now to the point that Newkirk was in the Cooler more than he was out of it and that was beginning to show in the Englishman's increasing pallor.

Drawing back a little from having wrapped his arms around his friends, Newkirk suddenly got a look at the expressions on their faces. The grey-green eyes looked troubled as he spoke softly to them.

"Louis? James? Please, mates -"

The rare use of his first name got Kinch's attention quickly and he broke the glare for Newkirk's sake. Then he met Newkirk's eyes and gave him a smile as he reached out to lay a hand on a bony shoulder. He knew that Newkirk had come as close to begging as the Cockney's pride would allow and what he was being asked to do. Hard as he found it, Kinch started ignoring Fetherston. After a moment, LeBeau laid a hand on Newkirk's other shoulder as he muttered something under his breath in French that didn't seem to be complimenting Fetherston before joining the other two in ignoring the man. LeBeau tried not to look disappointed when he took the time now to study his English friend closer. Too thin. Still and always, too thin.

It hadn't happened overnight, but between LeBeau's careful cooking and the support the Frenchman and American had given him, Newkirk's body finally succeeded in triumphing over the lingering illness that had, for a time, nearly become life-threatening. LeBeau was almost desperate to get some weight built up on his friend as he feared without that buffer, any other illness striking Newkirk might prove to be fatal. Getting good, nourishing meals into him was being constantly hampered by the frequent trips to the Cooler - nearly all of them due to Fetherston's insistence that Newkirk had broken some small rule or another. The rest of them tended to be because something had gone missing and, since Newkirk had once confessed to theft to keep LeBeau out of the Cooler, now everything missing was presumed to be his fault even if he had never even been in the area the item had gone missing from.

The only fortunate thing was that the new head of the Stalag, Kommandant Klink, was viewing Newkirk's frequent trips to the Cooler as less of a punishment to the corporal and more as a way of keeping the disagreeable Fetherston happy and quiet. Well, quieter.

The three friends headed into Barracks Two where LeBeau had food ready and waiting for Newkirk's return. The other five men who currently made up the rest of the occupants of the barracks all greeted Newkirk warmly before they headed out to the exercise yard to give the trio some privacy. The new atmosphere in Barracks Two was another 'bee' in Fetherston's bonnet. Now that Newkirk wasn't dealing with being constantly ill, his true personality had reasserted itself and. as the others found that the Englishman had a sense of humor, Newkirk had become well-liked among his barracks mates. In fact, the only ones in the camp that didn't have at least an amiable relationship with him these days were either those that avoided him to avoid being labeled as being a friend of the man with the record of 'Most Days in the Cooler' or those that didn't want to get on Fetherston's bad side.

As the three found themselves alone in the barracks, Newkirk took a deep, appreciative sniff.

"Smells good in 'ere, Louis. Stuff what you throw out as not fit fer th' dogs is still a cut above that muck they try t' pass off as food in me second 'ome. So, mates - any mail pile up fer me while I been away?"

Newkirk has already started eating when the continuing silence hit him.

"Aw, no. It's been o'er a month now. Not so much as a post card?"

"No. Nothing, _mon ami_."

LeBeau hated having to say the words. Not just because he knew how deeply they hurt his friend, but because of what he feared the news would cause next. And, as expected, Newkirk sighed and just nudged his plate away from himself.

"Sorry, Louis. Guess me eyes were bigger than me stomach."

"That would not take much, Pierre."

Kinch leaned over and his lanky friend a nudge.

"Peter - come on, buddy. Not eating isn't going to help anyone, least of all you. If nothing else, do it to annoy the hell out of Fetherston. You know he likes it way too much if he thinks you've lost weight.

The grey-green eyes rose to meet the brown ones. Kinch was the only man in camp to call him Peter (and, on even rarer occasions, Pete) just as LeBeau was the only one that could get by with calling him Pierre. Anyone else trying to use those names would likely receive a bop in the nose. He thought about that - then he thought about annoying Fetherston and pulled the plate back again, giving a smirk before taking another bite.

"Alright then - t' annoy Fetherston, I'll force some more down. But I 'ave t' tell you that me 'eart's not innit. Mavis 'as been faithful as ol' Big Ben. She's wrote to me every week since she found out I was in a POW camp. Only time she's ever missing a week was once when she was bad sick. Cor - I 'ope that ain't what's 'appened this time. I couldn't stand it if anything 'appened t' 'er or me niece when I couldn't even be there."

LeBeau got Newkirk some more tea, laying a hand briefly on his troubled comrade's shoulder. That got him another half-smile and the Englishman attempted to put things he couldn't change out of his mind. At least for the moment. He took another bite of food.

"So, me lads - 'ow's th' digs comin' along?"

Satisfied now that Newkirk was going to keep eating now, Kinch relaxed somewhat.

"Doing alright, but it will come along even better now that you're back with us, Peter."

"Well, leastways 'til tomorrow when ol' Fetherston starts t' bully Klink into dumpin' me back into th' Cooler again. Look, I'll finish this lovely bit up an' then show me where we're at now."

The entrance to the 'diggings' was underneath one of the bunks. After Newkirk finished his plate of food, LeBeau moved to keep an eye on the door while Newkirk and Kinch worked together, putting the mattress and its support boards over to the side. Then came the task of pulling up the floor planks and setting them to the side as well. Once they were clear, Kinch looked down before beginning to go into the hole. He hesitated briefly and looked down again before restarting, but he didn't get much farther than that because Newkirk hissed and grabbed onto his arm.

"You didn't ge straight in like you usually do, mate. Why?"

"No reason really - I just - say, you can let go now, Peter. That's starting to hurt."

LeBeau looked away from the door and back to his friends as Newkirk's voice went slightly up in volume.

"No, I will ruddy well keep hold until you come further from that 'ole. Don't you remember th' pact we three made 'tween us?"

"Huh? You mean about watching out for one another? What's that got to do with this?"

Even though he was still puzzled, Kinch moved away from the hole. Newkirk released his arm and sighed softly.

"Righto, that's better. Now, s'far as I'm concerned, watchin' out for th' pair o' you means I'm goin' t' need t' be teachin' you a few things. Lesson one's th' most important one. Don't never **ever** ignore yer guts when they're tellin' you a thing is wrong. Some times we know things without us knowin' we know 'em."

That last part totally lost Kinch and from the look on LeBeau's face, he hadn't understood it either. Newkirk wasn't really paying attention to them at the moment though, He was biting lightly on his lower lip as he moved back over and took another look down. Lads had made it to at least fifteen feet now. Likely would have been much further if they could just figure out a place to put the dirt that they were removing without it being obvious.

"Rope. We need our rope. I'm lightest right now, so I'll go down an' Kinch? You 'ang onto the rope while I try an' get a better feel. Shovel already down there?"

Moving back closer himself, Kinch looked back down the hole himself with a confused air.

"Yeah. Shovel's down there. Are you seeing something that I'm not seeing, Peter?"

"Nope. Doubt I see a thing that you ain't seein', me ol' pal. But I'm trustin' that gut o' yours. You've been down there recently an' I ain't been. Let's get the rope."

Seeing that it would be easier to argue with the hole than with Newkirk, Kinch just sighed and got the rope. Newkirk carefully fastened one end snuggly around his waist before climbing down.

Ten minutes passed. Kinchloe felt absolutely ridiculous standing there with the slack line in his hands. Looking over to LeBeau, they exchanged shrugs. Maybe too much time in the Cooler was making Newkirk a bit eccentric?

Five more minutes and suddenly, Kinchloe nearly lost both his footing and the rope as the line suddenly snapped taunt and got heavy. Swallowing hard and trembling, he called down.

"Pete! Pete - are you okay?"

There was an odd echo, but no reply for nearly two minutes. Then finally they heard his voice, but they could barely make out what he was saying.

"James - 'aul me back out. Careful though, mate. Let's not break this ruddy rope."

Several tense moments later, Newkirk was clear of the hole. Without waiting to even remove the rope from his waist, he immediately start to lay the planks back over the entrance. Kinchloe dropped his end of the rope and joined in until everything was back in place.

Then Newkirk sat heavily down on the bunk, starting to untie the rope at his waist with trembling hands. Now that the adrenaline was dying down, he was wincing more and more as well. His coloration had a tinge of grey to it as well as he looked to LeBeau.

"Good thing I didn't 'ave a second 'elping at th' table, eh? Shovel fell all the way through, but I 'eard it hit bottom. Don't think it goes too much deeper, but I wager it woulda been enough t' break both me legs. Or worse. Yer guts knew what they was talkin' about, Kinch."

Finally free of the rope, Newkirk took a deep breath to try and steady himself more as he reached up to put his hand on Kinch's shoulder. Kinch laid his own hand on top of Newkirk's to reassure himself that the Englishman really was there. He'd come so close to dropping him.

"When you didn't answer me, I thought -"

"Easy, mate. I didn't mean t' give ye th' collywobbles. Just everything 'appened so fast, I didn't 'ave time t' brace and when th' rope jerked? Fair drove th' air right outta me lungs."

Now that he wasn't needed at the door, LeBeau came back over and got fresh hot drinks for his shaken friends. He felt pretty shaken himself.

" _Mes amis_ \- what was that?"

Kinchloe slowly shook his head.

"Your guess is as good as mine."

For his part, Newkirk took a long burning sip of his drink before saying anything.

"We've broke through th' roof o' some place, Louis. Maybe a cave, but I don't think so. When th' shovel hit, it clattered. Not th' sort o' sound you'd expect if it hit dirt."

"If not a cavern, then what, _mon ami_?"

Newkirk's eyes flickered back to the bunk over their growing tunnel.

"Well, mates? If I were t' be makin' a guess at it, I'd be thinkin' back t' th' last time there was a dust-up like this one. The first world war. Germans had a thing for underground bunkers back then as well. If they build this Stalag over the top of an old military base from back then?"

There was a slow smile forming on the faces of both Kinch and LeBeau.

"Then we may just have come across as old bunker. Probably will need some shoring up, but we might have us a nice little spot without having to do a whole lot of extra digging."

"We'll need t' do some explorin', mates - but we don't have enough -"

All of a sudden, the door sprang open and a flustered Schultz came in. All three POWs were suddenly very glad that the entrance had already been covered over.

"What gives, Schultzie? I haven't even had th' chance t' finish me first pot o' tea."

"Englisher - this is no joking matter. Fetherston is in the Kommandant's office. Again."

"Bloody hell - Schultzie, you know I can't 'ave done anything. I just ruddy well just got out o' th' Cooler not even two hours ago. An' I ain't left this buildin' since you escorted me 'ere yourself."

The German soldier looked warily toward a window, but calmed somewhat as LeBeau slipped him a chocolate bar.

"Your officer is not trying to get you thrown back into the Cooler. He is trying to get the Kommandant to ship you to another camp. He specifically wants to separate you from the Cockroach und the American."

Both LeBeau and Kinchloe stared at Schultz, horrified at what they'd just heard, but he was too intent on unwrapping his candy to notice

Then the rotund Sergeant saw the stricken look on Newkirk's face. He took a bite of the chocolate, then reached over a hand to give the man's shoulder a pat.

"It will not happen for a few days. Your officer has the Kommandant angry right now, so he will not give him anything he wants."

"Until ol' Fetherston gets on 'is nerves enough that th' Kommandant gets rid o' me just t' shut him up."

"Ja. That is true. I will miss you, Englisher. But at least at another camp, you will not spend so much time in the Cooler?"

Without saying another word, Newkirk just got up from the table and went silently over to his bunk, climbing up into it and laying down. Schultz just tsked and motioned for LeBeau and Kinchloe to come a bit further away with him.

"You will watch him? I did not like the look in his eye."

" _Oui_ \- we will watch over him, Schultz. Go enjoy your chocolate. And _merci_. For letting us know."

"Oh - that reminds me. New prisoners will be arriving this afternoon. You have empty bunks in here, so some of them are bound to be assigned here."

"We'll make them feel as welcome here as we do, Schultz."

Taking another bite of the chocolate, Schultz totally missed the sarcasm in Kinchloe's voice as he headed back outside.

"Zehr gut! Well, I will be back later. It is nearly lunch."


	2. Chapter 2

After Schultz departed, LeBeau and Kinch turned almost in unison to look at the figure of Newkirk on his bunk.

"Fetherston - bastarde sales. And that porcine of an officier - we cannot do anything to him without it coming back against Pierre."

"Yeah. And he knows that."

Kinch hesitated for a moment longer, then moved over and laid his hand on Newkirk's side. The gasping yelp was not anything he was prepared for, but he immediately began to pull up Newkirk's shirt. The imprint of the rope showed clearly already and bruising was starting to form.

"Damn it, Peter. Why didn't you tell us? This was why you were wincing when we recovered the tunnel, wasn't it?"

"Didn't feel that bad at first. Honest, mate. An' I expected bruising with that jolt I took."

A hiss came out as Kinch touched a spot near his ribs. LeBeau started toward the door.

"I will get Gisbourne."

"No!"

Newkirk sat up quickly at that, regretting it as he tried to recatch his breath. Then he looked over to LeBeau.

"That bloke is onna Fetherston's. If 'e sees these marks on me, all three o' us may well get shot. I'm in for it any way, but don't make me 'ave th' two o' you on me conscience."

"Easy, buddy. Tell you what then. I'll go get Sergeant Wilson. I remember him saying he's had medic training."

"Oui - someone must take a look, mon ami. Come - let us help you down to the bottom bunk. Wilson will have an easier time looking at you there."

"I've gone from 'aving a pair o' friends t' a pair o' ruddy nannies."

LeBeau gave a smile at the verbal jab. He'd been afraid for a moment that perhaps Newkirk might shut down - give up. But he was still worried. Even if willing to fight, his English friend had little fight left in him. Between the lengthy stays in the Cooler, near constant badgering from Fetherston, his problem in keeping down German food and his worries about his family? Newkirk was both emotionally and physically drained. Too drained to do much more than half-heartedly complain when LeBeau tried to fuss with making him more comfortable as Kinch left to find Wilson.

Sergeant Wilson was one of those that tended to avoid Newkirk, but not because of Fetherston. He was trying to avoid the stigma of association with the man, though he had problems believing that any one man could have enough hours in the day to do even a quarter of what Fetherston accused Newkirk of. Still, saying no to Kinchloe, who was over six foot tall and rumored to have been a Golden Gloves boxer? Wilson might be reluctant, but he wasn't stupid.

Still, Wilson was more than a little surprised when, once they were inside Barracks Two, he found himself cornered by both Kinchloe and LeBeau.

"Anything - any petite item of interest you see or hear? If it gets back to Fetherston, we will know who it was from."

LeBeau said nothing more after that. No threat was verbalized, but with looks on the two men's faces as they confronted him, no further words were needed for the threat to both be delivered and taken seriously. Wilson just drew in a breath.

"Look - I've got no reason to be doing favors for Fetherston and I'm not in his pocket. None of his business, right?"

"Right."

With that one word, Kinch started moving and led Wilson over to Newkirk. His eyebrows raised at the marks, but he didn't say a word about them as he gently checked out Newkirk's ribs. Even so, the Englishman was biting back cries of pain.

"Bruising - obviously. And some cracked ribs. We can wrap them - keep them in line. It will also hide this mark. I know it hurts, Corporal, but you need to take fuller breaths. You're going to get lightheaded if you keep going with shallow breathing."

Sighing, Wilson continued to examine Newkirk, under the very close eyes of LeBeau and Kinch. He'd known that Newkirk seemed thin, but viewing the man with no clothing disguising things was another matter.

"You know, it might be better for you if you could find a way to make Fetherston happy."

That got a short laugh from Newkirk that immediately turned into a wince.

"Wouldn't give th' sod that pleasure, Wilson. I stay alive just t' yank 'is chain."

"What did you do to him to get him so riled?"

"I was born."

"Huh?"

"Drop it."

As always, Kinchloe was a man of few words, but he always meant the ones he used, so Wilson dropped it and finished up. He gave a few instructions on what to watch out for to LeBeau before opening the door to leave. He stopped dead in his tracks.

"The new prisoners have arrived. Looks to be eight of them."

Newkirk started to try and get up, but Kinch kept him down easily with a hand on his shoulder.

"Just stay still for a few. And try breathing a little deeper. You're the color of the morning gruel."

"Compliments won't get you anywhere with me, James me lad."

Chuckling, Kinch gave his friend a pat then joined LeBeau and Wilson at the door.

"They all look to be Americaines, mon ami. I believe I saw an officier as well, but I do not know the marking for your armee well enough to tell rank."

Wilson headed on over toward his own barracks. LeBeau drew a sharp breath and Kinch followed his friend's eyes. Fetherston had spotted where Wilson was coming from and was watching the Sergeant with a scowl on his face.


	3. Chapter 3

Eyes still fixed on Wilson, Fetherston called Gisbourne over to him.

"Seems Wilson didn't get the memo on Newkirk. I'd deliver it myself, but I have things to attend to with the Kommandant. See to it."

Gisbourne's own accent had the tone that marked him as being Cornish.

"Will do, sir."

Fetherston waited until he saw Gisbourne going into Wilson's barracks before turning and heading to the Kommandant's office. Always a good idea to let the new POWs see who was at the top of the pecking order in camp.

Still watching from the doorway of Barracks Two, Kinchloe laid a hand on LeBeau's shoulder.

"You stay and keep an eye on Peter. I think I'm going to go see what's happening with Wilson."

"Be careful, _mon ami_."

LeBeau went back inside, stopping to get a warm drink for Newkirk before going over to the bunk. Repositioning himself carefully, Newkirk took the mug as he studied Louis' expression.

"You've got that look you get when yer bothered, Louis. What's up?"

"The new prisoners have arrived, Pierre. We will likely be having company."

"Strewth - I should get up an' 'ang some curtains. Make th' ol' place look more 'omey."

Breaking into a smile, LeBeau shook his head.

" _Comedien_. When Kinch comes back, we will go get some air. Wilson wants you to get plenty of air - he fears you might catch _une pneumonie_."

"Pneumonia? That's th' last thing I need. Say, where is ol' Kinch?"

"He - went to check on Wilson."

The grey-green eyes narrowed in suspicion immediately.

"Wilson just left 'ere. Spill it, Louis."

"Fetherston saw Wilson coming out of our barracks. Do not worry. Kinch is a _grand homme._ He will watch out for himself. Besides, are we not like _Les Trois Mousquetaires_? You mentioned it yourself, _mon ami_ \- our pact, _non_? It goes both ways, Pierre - we look after you as well."

KInchloe stopped outside of Wilson' barracks to listen before entering in. Voices were raised, but not to the point of yelling.

"You are not a doctor and you are not to be attending to anything related to Corporal Newkirk again. Understand?"

"Oh, I understand what you're saying, but not why you're saying it. Sergeant Kinchloe asked me to come over and take a look because of how thin the Corporal is. What was I supposed to say to him?"

"I'll tell you what you should say to -"

Face set into a hard mask, Kinchloe stepped inside, gaze fixed firmly on Gisbourne.

"Why don't you just tell me straight to my face, Gisbourne? I'd like to hear if it's something that might be worth spending a few days in the Cooler over."

There was no chance of Gisbourne intimidating Kinchloe and they both knew it. Gisbourne just stiffened and headed toward the door, though he made the mistake of pausing before exiting.

"I'd drop the attitude if I were you, Sergeant Kinchloe. Unless you care to join Corporal Newkirk at Stalag 3."

Kinchloe lunged for Gisbourne and only Wilson grabbing his arm kept him from getting too close to the RAF doctor. Stalag 3 had been home to a few nasty outbreaks - most recently typhus. Sending someone there whose health was already compromised could easily be the equivalent of a death sentence.

"He's not worth it, Sergeant Kinchloe. Let it go."

Wilson added in a quieter tone.

"Who'll protect Newkirk from them if you get sent away?"

That got through. Kinch took a deep breath as Gisbourne exited quickly.

"Guy's a disgrace to real doctor's everywhere."

"No argument there, Wilson. And thanks for -"

Whatever else Kinchloe had been about to say was interrupted by the guards yelling for all of the POWs to fall into formation.

Meanwhile at the Kommandant's office, Fetherston was finally allowed in to see Kommandant Klink and the new POWs. Klink seemed in a jovial mood - that made Fetherston wary. Especially when he noted that the prisoner nearest the Kommandant was wearing the ensignia of a American Colonel.

"Ah - Group Captain Fetherston. I am sure you will be pleased since you were just complaining yesterday about the amount of duties you had. You are now no longer the Senior Allied POW."

After all of the grief Fetherston had been giving Klink with all of his demands, the Kommandant felt especially pleased at the disgruntled expression Fetherston was trying to suppress but doing a poor job of. Instead of immediately greeting the new officer, Fetherston went to Klink's desk.

"Has the transfer paperwork been completed yet for Corporal Newkirk?"

Klink adjusted his monocle slightly.

"I told you yesterday that I will take the matter under consideration, Group Captain. Beside, I believe I will now turn that matter over to the Colonel."

Following Klink's gesture, Fetherston finally took his first good look at the American Colonel. He estimated the man was just a touch taller than Newkirk, eyes and hair both dark brown. Ignoring the type of gaze Fetherston was giving him, the man offered his hand as if they were being introduced at a party.

"Colonel Robert Hogan, Group Captain. I hope you can fill me in on the camp."

A thin smile forming, Fetherston took the offered hand. Yes, all this could still work out quite nicely.

"Group Captain Fetherston at your service, Colonel Hogan. I'd be delighted to fill you in on the personnel here."


	4. Chapter 4

At the call for prisoners to assemble, Kinchloe hurried back to Barracks Two to help LeBeau get Newkirk to his feet and in uniform. They made sure to flank him in formation as well to insure that no-one jostled into their friend's sore ribs.

Shivering in the cold didn't feel good at all to his aching body, but Newkirk was an old hand now as masking discomfort. Still, it seemed an age before Klink finally came out and began giving his talk - starting with how there had been no successful escape since he took over the camp and ending with the introduction of the new Senior Allied POW, Colonel Hogan.

Any positive thoughts that came at that news were quickly dashed when Newkirk caught a glimpse of who was right by Colonel Hogan's side. Fetherston. He gave a sigh and glanced up to the sky.

_Guv - I know I 'ave me faults, but I've always tried me best - can't I get cut just a wee bit o' slack?_

He didn't expect an answer. Hadn't expected one since his mother died. The only reason he'd ever set foot in a church after that was to please his grandmother, but she'd been dead for quite awhile now as well.

At any rate, there was no slack being cut that day. Instead of being released from formation to go back into the barracks, they were forced to remain outside even longer than usual as the new officer made his way around. Newkirk could hear Fetherston's voice as they approached Barracks Two.

"This is rather the barracks with the black sheep in it. Main one you'll need to watch out for is Corporal Newkirk."

"He tends to be a handful?"

"That's putting it mildly. If you just finish out the paperwork with Colonel Klink, he'll soon be out of your hair. One less worry."

Hogan was looking over the eight men that currently made up Barracks Two and was slightly surprised to see the utter hatred directed at Fetherston that he saw in two sets of eyes. None of which belonged to the one being talked down. For his part, Corporal Newkirk was staring straight ahead at nothing. There was a story here or Hogan would eat his leather jacket. Without ketchup.

"This is the barracks Klink has assigned me to. Don't worry. I'll keep a close eye on everything."

Hogan watched as the men were dismissed from formation and politely turned down Fetherston's invitation to join him. How men divided off into groups told him a lot about the men. Most tended to stick to their own, but one trio of men stood out for being so absolutely contrary to that rule. It especially intrigued him since one of the three was the 'infamous' Corporal Newkirk and the other two were the ones that had been shooting daggers at Fetherston. There was another reason that Newkirk intrigued Hogan. Colonel Klink knew very few prisoners by name, but he'd known immediately who Newkirk was.

Acting as if he was taking a casual stroll to acquaint himself with the compound, Hogan sought out another man that Fetherston had marked as a possible malcontent. A faint smile touched his lips as he moved over to where the man was leaning and exchanged salutes with Sergeant Wilson. If Fetherston had only known.

"Colonel Hogan, sir. Getting a feel for the place?"

"Oh yes. It's absolutely charming here, Wilson. I just need a cottage and some porridge to complete the fairy tale scene."

Wilson's head snapped up as he took a better look at the smiling Colonel. He had gotten messages slipped to him in letters from his non-existant fiance. Taking a deep breath, he gave the countersign.

"Plenty of bears around, but I'm afraid they left Goldilocks over in London."

Moving further from the barracks as if showing Hogan the scenic barbed wire fences, Wilson spoke again quietly.

"I'd gotten to where I didn't think anyone was coming, sir."

"These things take time, Sergeant. So, how did you get saddled with being on Fetherston's bad boy list?"

"I gave aid and assistance to the enemy, sir."

That puzzled Hogan. This was, to say the least, a delicate mission he'd been entrusted with. Surely his contact wouldn't be a Nazi sympathizer.

"You've been helping the Krauts?"

"No, the Cockney. Corporal Newkirk, sir."

Glancing back toward Barracks Two, Hogan stood thoughtfully for a moment or two.

"What's the story behind those three?"

"If Newkirk is one of the three, that would make the other two Corporal LeBeau and Sergeant Kinchloe, sir."

Wilson started to say something, then apparently decided against it.

"No offense, Colonel, but if you're the sort of man that deserves to be leading a crew like this, you'll be able to sort things out for yourself. I will say one thing though. You manage get those three on your side and I wouldn't bet against you or the mission."

The words _'deserves to be'_ jumped out at Hogan and a faint smile formed.

"Is this a challenge, Wilson?"

Wilson just gave a shrug and a slight smile in return.

"If you like, sir. Let's just say previous officers may have left you with some hard soil to try and till."

It didn't take a genius to figure out Wilson was referring to Fetherston. Hogan had noticed there wasn't even one enlisted man that seemed genuinely fond of the man. Just a few bootlickers trying to curry favor.

"Good thing I love a challenge then. Thanks, Wilson."

Strolling back toward Barracks Two, Hogan paused by one of the windows and leaned there to catch the snippets of conversations inside.

"Three? Bloody 'ell. Why don't 'e just tell th' guards t' shoot me?"

"Do not give that __batard__ any ideas, __mon_ ami_."

"Louis is right, Pete. We'll figure out something... Pete? What did you do with my watch this time?"

"Try yer left 'and pocket, mate."

"How do you do that? Taking it I can figure - I knew guys in Detroit that had fast fingers, but they never put stuff into pockets."

"A true magician never revels 'is secrets, James. Louis? Could I bother you a spot o' something warm? Th' ol' moltin' eagle 'ad us out there long enough that me bones got icicles."

" _Oui_. One condition. Three deep breaths first."

"Oh fer th' luv o' - fine. 'Appy now, mum?"

"Thrilled, __mon_ fils_."

"If I knew French, I'd likely be givin' you a swat fer an insult, wouldn't I?"

"It was no more of an insult than you calling me _mere_. And learning French could only do you good. It is _le langage de l'amour_."

Straightening up and brushing off his jacket, Hogan headed inside as the snow started to fall again. The barracks weren't a great deal warmer than the outside, but at least the wind was blocked off. The second he was in, all of the talking stopped and he was being silently studied by all eight men. Definately a challenge.

Moving over to the room that was now his, Hogan opened the door and took a look inside before looking back over the men.

"Private Banks - could I see you in my office? Such as it is?"

His attempt at a little joke fell flat. It was impossible not to notice that everyone was looking at Banks as if he was heading toward a firing squad. Damn. Wilson really wasn't kidding about hard soil. The interview didn't go much better. He halfway expected Banks to start answering with just his name, rank and serial number. Dismissing the private, Hogan sat down and considered. He was going to have to break through the wall of distrust somehow or his mission would fail before it even started. Then he thought back to the statement Wilson had made and went to the door again.

"Sergeant Kinchloe - I'd like to see you in my office."

He had to bite back a sigh when he saw the man exchanging hand grips with LeBeau and Newkirk before heading over. Still, the Sergeant gave him an extremely proper salute that he returned.

"At ease, Sergeant. Have a seat."

The wary look in the black man's eyes was the last exasperating straw.

"Look, Sergeant - I get it. Officers aren't exactly trusted or welcomed with open arms around here. But we need to work together and to do that, I need to know something about you guys."

Kinchloe's eyes were unreadable and the tone of his voice was equally so.

"I'm sure Group Captain Fetherston filled you in on all of us 'black sheep', Colonel."

"He did, but I seem to sense there's some sort of personality conflict going on."

"Impossible, sir. T' 'ave a personality conflict, Fetherston would 'ave t' 'ave a personality."

Hogan's head snapped around to take in the sight of the English and French corporals standing side by side in his doorway. He kept his own expression neutral.

"You know you could probably be accused of insubordination, Corporal."

Newkirk just shrugged.

"If that 'appens, it does, sir. 'Ardly be th' worst thing I've been accused of."

"You realize that I requested to see the Sergeant in my office alone?"

" _Non._ _Je vous demande pardon_ , Colonel. You did request to see him in your office, but did not say alone."

To all of their surprise, Hogan started laughing.

"So I did. Come the rest of the way in - both of you. And this time, shut the door before you have a seat."


	5. Chapter 5

It wasn't a quick process for Hogan to try and get the three men to open up to him. Hogan even had to admit to himself that, under other circumstances, this whole thing would actually be sort of funny – like an old corny joke starting with 'an American, an Englishman and a Frenchman walked into a bar'. What totally wiped out the humor was the conviction of all three men that this situation was one of life or death – definitely Newkirk's life and possibly all three's.

He was starting to get the hang of following the mixture of French, Cockney and American flowing from the three men. Or at least he wasn't having trouble figuring out who was talking even if he couldn't always make out what they were saying. Both LeBeau and Newkirk's accents got thicker when they got emotional and LeBeau was easily the most emotional of the three. Hogan had learned German for this mission, but he was sincerely wishing that Allied Command had tossed a few French lessons in as well.

It was something that Newkirk said following a rare moment of silence that really hit Hogan.

"I was called up, but I didn't dodge it, sir. I got no grief 'bout doin' me bit 'gainst th' Nazis. I just 'ave a problem with me biggest enemies bein' th' ones that are supposed t' be on me own side."

Sitting back, Hogan studied the thin Englishman. Very thin. That thought brought a frown to his face.

"So, I'm told you've been to the Cooler a few times for theft. Any truth to that?"

LeBeau started to sputter an answer – in French – but Newkirk just laid a hand on the reddening Frenchman's arm.

"Plenty o' truth that I've spent an 'our or two in th' Cooler, sir.

"There's the understatement of the year."

That dry muttered comment by Kinchloe got a laugh out of both Newkirk and LeBeau. While Hogan didn't know what the joke was, he was pleased at the drop in tension the laughter brought. Seeing the slightly puzzled look on the face of their new Colonel, Kinchloe translated for him.

"Recently, Corporal Newkirk's been in the Cooler more than out of it, sir."

"Me second 'ome."

"Oui. And not a tenth of it warranted, Colonel."

That was actually a disappointment to Hogan, not that he'd say that.

"So, you aren't actually a thief then?"

The long pause recaptured Hogan's curiosity.

"Well, you see, sir – 'ow I answer that one depends on what you mean. If yer askin' if I went t' th' Cooler fer what they say I went there for, then no. If yer askin' if I coulda done what they said I did, then yes."

"Prove it."

All three men had narrowed their eyes in almost perfect unison and were studying him. It was painfully obvious that they were looking for a trap. He didn't bother to hold back the sigh this time.

"Newkirk. If you can show me that you have a – shall we say, talent? Then it helps me to believe that you've been set up. After all, if you're actually good, then you wouldn't be being caught. At least not every single time. Right?"

A spark Hogan hadn't seen before lit up the Englishman's eyes until they reminded him of how he'd always pictured in his mind that the eyes of the Cheshire Cat would be. Newkirk got to his feet.

"Righto. Could I ask you t' stand, sir?"

Bemused, Hogan stood, wondering what the lanky man expected he would be able to do with him on full alert. But Newkirk didn't do anything that he could tell beyond brushing off his jacket while tsking.

"Terrible dusty, these 'ere camps are, sir. So – what way would you like me t' go 'bout provin' meself, sir?"

"Well, what can you do?"

"What can't I do would be more th' question, sir."

A sly smile formed to match the look in the grey-green eyes.

"Can you pick a lock?"

"I can, sir. Mastered that 'fore me fifteenth birthday."

"What about a combination lock?"

"You mean like what's on a safe, sir? Not a problem."

LeBeau and Kinchloe were exchanging worried looks about the amount Newkirk was saying about himself. He noticed that and gave his two friends a smile as well as a bit of a shrug.

"If I'm t' be packed off t' Stalag 3, I'd rather it be fer something I actually did instead o' something that Fetherston invented."

Hogan brought the conversation back on course.

"So, let's get to that proof."

Newkirk just took his seat between LeBeau and Kinchloe back and spread his hands apart.

"Already done, sir. You can check. You've got an a'penny in every pocket that you 'ave."

Blinking, Hogan reached into one pocket after another, bringing out a small copper coin with every search until he reached his left pants pocket and found not only the coin, but a pocket watch as well. Bringing that out got a reaction from Kinchloe.

"Darn it, Pete! When did you do that?"

For his part, the Englishman was wearing an expression like a cat chin deep in cream as he addressed Hogan again.

"Not only could I 'ave knicked th' goods if I wanted, I coulda framed someone else fer it if I'd been in mind t'. Sir."

Hogan chuckled as he passed the watch back over to Kinchloe, but LeBeau was still nervous.

"Pierre, mon ami – are you sure that you are -?"

Newkirk surprised Hogan by reaching over to give the Frenchman a reassuring pat.

"Louis, there may not be a lot in this life that I'm sure of, but I've known enough in my day t' be able t' spot a fellow dodger when I see one. Right, Colonel?"

Sucking in shocked breaths and halfway expecting to get hauled off to the Cooler at any second, LeBeau and Kinchloe cautiously shifted their gaze to Colonel Hogan. They were more than a little shocked to see the same sly smile that Newkirk had was mirrored on the Colonel's face and his eyes were also glittering. His tone was highly amused when he spoke again.

"Let's go back to the beginning, fellows. We need to work with one another – I can't tell you details until I know that you're with me. So what can I do to prove myself to you?"

Kinchloe raised a brow and spoke.

"In your own words, sir? Prove it."

"Mais oui, Colonel. Newkirk met your challenge, non?"

"Fine then. How?

"Beggin' th' Colonel's pardon, you rather let me prove meself in me own way. Seems only fair we let you show us what you can do in yer own way."

After a moment of though, Hogan gave a full smile as he saluted the trio. They rose to their feet and returned the gesture.

"Challenge accepted, men."


	6. Chapter 6

Hogan tipped his hat back slightly and started to pace as he thought. He suddenly stopped and looked back to Kinchloe and LeBeau.

"Would the two of you be willing to risk some possible Cooler time if it would help out Newkirk?"

The total lack of hesitation impressed the Colonel.

"Of course."

"Mais oui – it is only fair."

"Let's don't go there again, Louis – over 'n done with."

Both Kinchloe and LeBeau rolled their eyes slightly at Newkirk – Hogan made a mental note to revisit what all that might have been about at a later time. For now, he moved on.

"What I'm going to require from each of you is your full cooperation – no questions asked. If I give a direct order, obey it to the absolute letter without wondering or reading anything into it. Understand?"

Newkirk considered, then questioned.

"Will you be phrasing it in exactly that way, sir? As a direct order?"

Hogan just smiled again. Not only a question to clarify, but the right question.

"I will use those exact words – direct order."

"I'm in then, sir."

"I as well, Colonel."

"May as well make it unanimous, sir."

"Excellent – now, gentlemen, let's put our heads together for a few and then go get some rest. We start our first operation together in the morning."

Humming to himself after morning roll call, Hogan made his way over to the Kommandant's building, stopping to flirt with the lovely blonde in the outer office. In fact, he was there chatting with her when the call came out from Klink's office to send for Colonel Hogan immediately.

Hogan just flashed a smile and a wink at Helga as he marched straight into Colonel Klink's office.

"You wanted to see me, Kommandant?"

Startled by the speed of Hogan's arrival, Klink tried to regroup his thoughts.

"Er – um – yes. It is about Corporal Newkirk's transfer –"

"You know, Colonel Klink, I want it to go on record that I did warn him. I told the Group Captain that a cunning intellect such as yours would see through it."

"Well, of course I would see through it! Er, exactly what instance are we talking about, Hogan?"

"Why Newkirk, of course. I mean, any idiot could tell that there was no way the Corporal could have done everything he was supposed to have done. I mean, when would the man have slept? I told Fetherston that as soon as you had it figured out, you'd demand to know who the real culprit was, sir. But I have to protest. Asking Corporal Newkirk to say anything against a superior officer is asking a lot of an enlisted man, Colonel."

Klink bristled slightly at that.

"Nonsense, Hogan! I want to know and I want to know now! Schultz! Bring Corporal Newkirk to my office immediately!"

"Jawohl, mein Kommandant!"

"I want it noted that this is under protest, Kommandant. I suppose the next thing you're going to insist on is that I order the Corporal to tell you what you want to know."

"That is exactly what I expect you to do, Colonel Hogan. You are the Senior POW and we will get to the bottom of this!"

Schultz came in with a very puzzled Newkirk, who looked from Hogan to Klink before going to attention.

"At ease, Corporal. The Kommandant has noticed some strange things going on and wants to get to the bottom of it. Now I want you to answer all of my questions no matter who it might embarrass. That's a direct order, Corporal."

Newkirk drew in a sharp breath. Of all the places he'd thought about being given that direct order, the Kommandant's office was the last place he would have expected it. He wondered (not for the first time) just what he might have gotten himself into.

"Now, Corporal, the Kommandant knows that you've been sent to the Cooler multiple time for theft. Did you actually steal any of those things that you were sent to the Cooler for?"

"No, sir."

Klink's attention was immediately centered on Newkirk.

"But you said that you stole them."

"Beggin' th' Kommandant's pardon, no, I did not, sir. Only time I ever admitted t' takin' anything was back when Kommandant Lange was 'ere. Sergeant Schultz'll remember that one. He thought we were stealin' food. Was just scraps from th' Mess, but I spent time over it, sir."

"Der Englisher is correct, mein Kommandant. There was only that one time. Every other time it was Group Captain Fetherston that said der Englisher took those things."

Klink looked at Schultz and then back to Newkirk.

"But you did not deny it?"

"Again, beggin' yer pardon, sir – what good would that 'ave done? 'e's an officer an' I'm just a corporal."

"I see –"

"I knew you would, Colonel Klink. And I'm asking you for leniency for Group Captain Fetherston and Flight Lieutenant Gisbourne. I'm certain we could get them to return everything they've taken, sir."

"Nonsense! I will not have these sort of activities going on in my camp! Schultz! Have Fetherston and Gisbourne taken to the Cooler at once! Have all of the prisoners from that barracks go to Barracks 12 to await further instruction. They are to take nothing with them!"

Turning back to Hogan, Klink adjusted his monocle.

"Once they are out, we will see what we find in their barracks, Colonel Hogan."

"I really should protest this type of search, Colonel Klink, but I have to admit that you're really being more than fair about this whole thing."

"That is how you will find I run my camp, Colonel Hogan. I am firm, but fair."

Outside, LeBeau and Kinchloe were waiting until the loudly protesting Fetherston was marched off. Once the guards had the barracks empty, they acted quickly, with Kinchloe helping the small Frenchman get in through one of the back windows and then passing things through rapidly. As Schultz headed back to the Kommandant, Kinchloe helped LeBeau back out and reshut the window quietly before they made their way back to Barracks Two.

After the report that Fetherston's barracks were empty, Klink led the way, taking both Hogan and Newkirk with him. The obviously German items found hidden among Fetherston and Gisbourne's things were all it took to convince Klink that the officers had been using the Corporal to cover up their own thefts. The transfer papers to Stalag 3 were signed, but Newkirk's name wasn't the one on them.


	7. Chapter 7

Hogan was standing outside with Kinchloe, LeBeau and Newkirk when the truck took Fetherston and Gisbourne away from camp. Newkirk couldn't find it in him to work up even a minimum of sympathy for the men.

"Good riddance t' bad rubbish, I say."

Kinchloe spoke next.

"I don't guess any of us have doubt that you passed the challenge, Colonel. I don't know what you're up to, but I'm in."

"So long as it is nothing to harm _mon bien-aimé_ France? I am your man as well, _mon_ Colonel."

"Guess that means it's up t' me t' make it unanimous this time, Guv'nor."

"Excellent. Let's go into my office, men."

Turning, Hogan gave both Kinchloe and Newkirk a pat on the back. The pained intake of breath from Newkirk was not anything the Colonel had been expecting.

"Sorry - just took me off guard there. I'll be fine in just a bit."

"Do I need to get Wilson to take a look at you, Newkirk?"

"Wilson's already seen me, sir. 'onest."

"It is a long story, _mon_ Colonel. One we will tell you, but first you have something to tell us, _non_?"

"Yes - come in and grab a seat. This isn't going to be quick."

The three men settled quickly - as usual with Newkirk in the middle. Hogan now at least thought he knew why.

"That's the reason you two have been flanking him all this time, isn't it? Up with the shirt, Corporal. Let me take a look."

"Ain't pretty right now, Guv. Mates? Give a bloke a 'and?"

Kinchloe and LeBeau helped him pull off the sweater and shirt. Hogan moved closer and carefully moved the wraps. Gentle as he tried to be, Newkirk couldn't help wincing. The still clear signs of rope told him why the injury was being kept secret.

"Broken or cracked ribs?"

"Wilson said cracked. They're 'ealing, sir. Just a bit tender right now, you might say."

"We'll have him take another look at you tomorrow. For now though, LeBeau's right. We have other business to discuss. First thing I want to say is that nothing you have said or done obligates you to anything beyond treating what I'm about to tell you as Top Secret. A lot of lives could be lost if this gets out. Understood?"

They all nodded as they gave him their full attention.

"The Allied Command wants a way to move information and some personnel out of Germany. They want us to be that conduit. This is strictly volunteer stuff, men. If we get caught, if we're lucky we'd be shot as spies. But - and this is a big one - if we can succeed here, we could shorten the war and save lives. Wilson implied to me that if I was able to get the three of you onboard that we'd have a good chance of pulling this off."

Kinchloe looked startled.

"Wilson? Sergeant Wilson?"

"That's the one. He was told to keep his head down and his eyes open. Apparently he didn't manage the 'head down' part too well. He was on Fetherston's bad boy list."

"That was my fault, Colonel. I went to him when Newkirk was hurt and asked him to take a look at him. Not many guys turn me down to my face."

Hogan just gave Kinchloe a crooked smile.

"I can see that, Sergeant. Rumor has it you were a boxer?"

"Yes sir. Golden Gloves."

"That's the sort of thing I'm going to need to start learning about all of you. But think it over - this operation is going to be a lot of work for very little glory."

"I am not in this for glory, _mon_ Colonel. I am in it to free my country. You may count me in."

"England's takin' a beatin' as well, sir. Sooner th' war is over, sooner I can look -"

Kinchloe reached a hand over and gave Newkirk's shoulder a squeeze. Yet another mental note. Hogan sighed quietly. At this rate, he could really use a mental secretary to keep track of everything he needed to follow up on.

"I'm with Peter. Sooner the war is over, the better. Looks like we're all onboard, Colonel."

Hogan began to pace slightly as he considered what their next move should be.

"Alright - first things first. We're going to have to have a place to keep both equipment and people out of sight as well as a way in and out of camp. We're going to need to start on some tunnels - "

At the sound of a chuckle, Hogan paused and looked back toward the trio.

"Beggin' yer pardon, Guv'nor, but I think we've got us a start there. We don't know 'ow big it is ourselves yet."

Eyes bright, Hogan remained standing, but leaned on the table.

"This has something to do with those ribs, doesn't it?"

"My ribs an' Kinch's guts, Guv."

Hogan looked over to Kinchloe with a slight frown.

"Are you injured too?"

"No sir - Newkirk's talking about gut instincts. Long story again, but the part you need to know for now is that we've been working on a tunnel. And we - well, Newkirk - broke through the ceiling of what we think may have been an abandoned bunker from the last war."

"It all happened the day you arrived in the camp, _mon_ Colonel. We have had no chance since then to see what exactly it is that we found."

"No time like the present. Well, tonight at any rate. After lights out, let's go take a look at what we have to work with. Why don't the three of you try and catch a nap? It's likely to be a busy night."

Watching the three head back out of his office with LeBeau already talking to Newkirk about eating some more, Hogan sat down and reflected on something his grandmother had once told him. _Some things are just meant to be._ This was seeming to be one of those things that was meant to be and he viewed that as a good sign that they might just be able to pull this crazy mission off.


	8. Chapter 8

"Colonel Hogan? Could I see you for one moment, bitte?"

It was just after evening roll call. The request suprised Hogan. The rotund sergeant was still getting used to him, but Hogan decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. He wanted to get to know the senior enlisted man among the Germans better.

"Of course, Schultz. What can I do for you?"

"I do not know what you did or how you did it und I do not want to know, but it is good to still have the Englisher here. Und - I have something for him. You will give it to him, ja?"

"Sure, Schultz - what is it?'

To say Hogan was slightly curious would be like saying the ocean was slightly damp. He'd heard his men speak well of Schultz but hadn't really thought of an actual relationship existing between them and the old soldier.

"The Kommandant had me to supervise the cleaning of the Group Commander's quarters und I found these. You - you will not be an officer that is cruel to the enlisted men?"

Hogan's eyes moved down to what was being brought out of the pocket of Schultz's coat. When he saw it was a bundle of letters, he suddenly wished Fetherston wasn't currently on his way to Stalag 3.

"I was on guard duty many nights with Newkirk when he was in der Cooler. He would always ask me about my Frau und my Kinder und my Neffe Wolfie. I would ask about his Schwester und his Nichte Lola. Lola und Wolfie are the same age. Please - when he was in der Cooler, he would talk about catching up on der post from his Schwester when he got out. As Senior officer, the Group Captain was given the post for the men. I -"

Losing words, Schultz just held the bundle out to the Colonel. Reaching out, Hogan took the letters as if they were fragile.

"You didn't know, Schultz. Thank you. Some guys would have just tossed these out in the trash."

Schultz looked genuinely horrified at that thought. Then he reached over and gently tapped the bundle.

"I was in Erster Weltkrieg, Colonel Hogan. I know. War does not last. Family does."

"Thanks again, Schultz. And Schultz? I won't be like him. And if you think I'm starting to be, I'd be obligued if you'd let me know."

"Zehr gut. Good night, Colonel Hogan."

"Good night, Schultz."

Taking a deep breath, Hogan studied the letters in his hands briefly before heading inside to his men.

"Guys - mail call seems like it's a little late. All seem to be for one guy too. Newkirk?"

"Colonel?"

"From Schultz. He told me to make sure you got these. They came from Fetherston's quarters."

Newkirk practically snatched the bundle, starting to go through the envelopes before going extremely pale. Pale enough that both LeBeau and Kinch were on either side of him in a second. As usual, LeBeau was the one that blew up first. Short as his time with them had been, Hogan knew that when LeBeau reverted to pure French that it was never a good sign.

" _Ce diable! Pierre - vous devez écrire votre soeur_!"

"Pete - "

Kinchloe found himself at total loss for words and Hogan gently took the letters from Newkirk's unresponsive hands. Only a few of the letters were addressed to Peter Newkirk. The others were addressed to either Mavis Newkirk or Lola Newkirk. He already knew from Schultz that Lola was Newkirk's niece. It seemed logical that Mavis must be his sister.

Then Newkirk exploded like a volcano and Hogan decided it was just as well that Fetherston was far out of the Cockney's reach. He didn't think he would have been able to hold the man back. He wasn't even sure that he would have tried to.

"I'm goin' t' bloody well kill 'im! That there's everything I've writ t' me family since I met Louis!"

Just as quickly as the anger erupted, it collapsed in on itself.

"Mav must think I'm bad off or dead. Like I did 'er."

The Colonel seperated the letters addressed to England from the others.

"I'll make sure that these get off to her, Newkirk. And I'll send her a letter trying to explain what happened."

Newkirk didn't respond verbally, but he reached for one of the thicker envelopes that was addressed to him and opened it. There was a picture inside that had gotten a bit creased in transit, but still clearly showed a cream-skinned young woman with dark hair.

"That's me Mavis. Don't any o' you blokes be gettin' any ideas either."

"Spoken like a true _frere, mon ami_. She is _belle_."

"Sure is. She doesn't look a thing like you, Peter."

"Well, not like I break mirrors, mate - but she was blessed t' take after our mum. What I can remember leastways."

"You obviously did a good job raising her, buddy."

"Can't take much credit there. Mavis was always a good'un."

Newkirk picked up the letters and got up, putting them all carefully into his footlocker, but keeping the picture with him.

"You are not going to read them, Pierre?"

"Eventually, Louis. Right now, just got t' let me 'eart adjust back t' 'er bein' alright. Th' letters can wait for me t' catch up. Wake me when it's time t' go, mates. I think I might be able t' catch a few winks now."

"Just get some rest, Corporal. We'll check it out. You don't need to be climbing in and out of holes until your ribs finish mending."

"If you're sure, Guv."

Newkirk carefully placed the picture to where he could see it then laid down without bothering to remove more than his boots. For once instead of tossing and turning half the night, he slipped almost immediately to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

After light's out, Kinchloe had Private Banks shift to another bunk - he was the one that normally slept over their entrance. While Hogan was pleased about how well the entrance was hidden, the time it was taking to access it was a drawback.

"The location is great, but this isn't going to be a one time only use item anymore, men. We're going to need to quicker way in and out both for our convenience and to keep the guards from getting too suspicious."

Watching quietly from the bunk he'd moved to, Private Banks cleared his throat.

"Excuse me, Colonel?"

"Yes, Banks?"

"I'm a farm boy. My dad and I had a pulley system that we made to help us move hay bales in and out of our loft. I think we could rig something like that to just sort of lift the bunk out of your way instead of having to remove everything."

"That's not a bad thought. Would you know how to put something like that together?"

"Yes, sir. My dad and I built the one we used."

"See if you can draw us up a rough diagram of how it would work and what we'd need to make it a reality. In the morning. Get some sleep now, Private."

Glancing down into the hole, Hogan considered again thoughtfully.

"No idea how far down the bottom is?"

"We can estimate, Colonel. We were down around fifteen or so feet when Newkirk fell through. He dropped maybe five feet before the rope stopped him and he heard the shovel hit bottom and said it didn't sound like it fell that much further. I'd put a guess at between twenty-five to thirty feet from top to bottom, sir. Louis's been knotting a climbing rope."

" _Oui_. I knotted it around every two feet to help give a good grip, _mon_ Colonel. There is enough to cover up to forty feet."

"In that case, I don't know about you men, but I'm ready to take a look at our new playground. Let's secure the line and head down. We'll need to take some light with us as well."

Despite the protests of both LeBeau and Kinchloe, Hogan went down first. He and his team were likely to be facing some rough situations in the future and he wanted them to know from the start that he wasn't going to expect them to go into any situation he wouldn't put himself in. Counting the knots after he passed through into the larger open area, this portion of the bunker was ten feet in height.

"I'm at the bottom. Next man down."

Carefully moving away from the rope in the darkness, Hogan pulled out the candles and matches LeBeau had given him and lit the first candle. As LeBeau reached the bottom, Hogan passed him the lit candle and readied another one, which was passed to Kinchloe when he joined them. Once three candles were going, they could start to get a better idea of what they were dealing with.

Kinchloe moved to examine the existing supports.

"We might need to add a little additional bracing to one or two of these, Colonel, but they mostly seem to be in pretty good shape."

"There are some shelves and some other bits of equipment down here as well, _mon_ Colonel. I wonder - _voila_!"

Hogan and Kinchloe both turned their heads as the light suddenly increased. LeBeau just grinned and pointed to an old oil lamp.

"We will have to get more oil for them, but these will be better than working by candlelight."

Exploration found that besides the main room, there were four smaller rooms, but one of those had partially caved-in. Still, it was an excellent start and Hogan was openly optimistic.

"This will save us literally months of time in getting the operation going."

" _Mon_ Colonel! I have found something else you might find _très intéressant_."

LeBeau was very gently pinning down an old map on an equally old table.

"It is of our area - dated 1915, but such things as the rivers will not have changed. And where we are is marked, see?"

"I see..."

His voice trailed off as Hogan's thoughts went a dozen directions at once.

"Men, let's put the lights out down here and head back up for some sleep. We have a lot of planning to do. We need to get a good map of this camp and figure out the relation of our underground area to it. We'll have some outside help to assist us, but we need to have everything solid that we want or we'll be wasting time and equipment that we don't have to spare."

"One more point for us to consider. Klink was bragging about no escapes since he took over. That true?"

" _Oui_. When Kommandant Lange was here, there were many attempts just from men trying to get food. Some were successful. Since Klink has arrived, the food restrictions have eased. There will likely be more attempts, but I think most have been using this time to regain their strength."

A memory clicked with Hogan and he snapped his fingers as something that had been nagging at the back of his mind finally fell into place.

" **That's** where I'd heard Newkirk's name before. He was mentioned in the Red Cross report when this place was given a sub-standard rating."

"Yeah. Louis and I had to carry him back to the barracks. He couldn't even stand on his own."

LeBeau muttered under his breath as he put out the lamp.

"Fetherston - _il aurait été écorché comme un lapin_."

The only part of that muttering Hogan understood was Fetherston's name. Then Hogan thought back to what Wilson had said about how he got on Fetherston's bad side and had another strong inclination to find the man to deliver a good punch in the nose.

"Tomorrow, I want to have a long talk with the two of you. Newkirk as well. It's about time I got all these stories from the beginning. We also need to start working to ensure this camp remains escape proof."

"Colonel?"

"Hey, what better cover for an escape route than a POW camp with no successful escapes? And Klink seems like exactly the sort of man we want in charge."


	10. Chapter 10

After morning roll call, Hogan had Banks get started on his drawing with the warning to have something to hide it under in case one of the guards walked in without warning. He poured himself some of the coffee LeBeau had ready and then montioned what he now considered to be his core group into his office.

"Alright - to really get a feel for what we have to work with, I need as much history as I can get. Fetherston wasn't exactly a fountain of information. Let's start with Colonel Klink."

"The Kommandant has not been here for too terribly long, _mon_ Colonel. General Burkhalter brought him in to replace Kommandant Lange after the _l'incident_ with the surprise visit from the Red Cross. I had only been here perhaps four months when that occured."

"I hadn't even been here a month at that point myself. In fact, I think Peter was already in the Cooler when I got here."

" _Mais oui_ \- it was just after when you arrived. But that is beside the point. When the Red Cross gave the Stalag such a bad rating, Lange was gone as quickly as Burkhalter could draw enough breath to scream at him. Colonel Klink was traveling with _le_ general and was assigned as his replacement on the spot."

Kinchloe took up the story from there.

"What we've found out from his own mini-speeches and from the guards is that he's single, used to be a pilot nicknamed 'the Iron Eagle'. He had to quit piloting due to bad vision in one eye, so the monocle isn't just for show in his case."

Newkirk just smirked and then launched into a credible imitation of Klink.

"No prisoner ever escapes from Stalag 13. Not last night, not tonight, not never!"

The other three laughed, but that was another little item Hogan filed away in his mind for later. Especially seeing as there had not been a trace of the Cockney tones in Newkirk's voice while doing it.

"That reminds me - any of the three of you know German?'

"I do, Colonel. It was part of my training for covering and translating broadcasts."

"Excellent. I know it as well - LeBeau and Newkirk, get ready for a crash course. If we're going to move around, we're going to need to be able to read and speak the local lingo. Now, Sergeant Schultz?"

The others immediately deferred that to Newkirk.

"Ol' Schultzie in th' wrong line o' work, but not like he'd been given better options. 'e's got a wife named Gretchen an' five children, 'as a married sister who's got a son they call Wolfie. Short for Wolfgang, if memory serves, sir. Schultz's been 'ere since they opened th' camp. Camp 'ad only just opened when I got 'ere."

"Decided to get in on the grand opening?"

"Well, they made me an offer I 'ad trouble refusin', Guv. Any way, our Schultzie just wants t' get through this war with as little grief as possible an' get back t' 'is ol' civilian life with 'is wife an' kiddies."

"His English is pretty good, so don't assume he can't understand what your saying. He might decide it's better to pretend he doesn't understand though."

"He does not like to get us into trouble, so if we can offer him a way to not get us into trouble and keep him out of trouble as well? _Il est pour le mieux_."

Listening to the three of them, Hogan just chuckled again.

"It's hard for me to believe how short a time you guys have known one another."

"War an' politics, Guv. They both make for strange bedfellows."

"Sergeant Kinchloe?"

"Just Kinch is fine, sir."

"Alright, Kinch. Any other talents of yours I should know about?"

"Well, I also know French, sir. I'm good with basic radio and telegraph. Did some plumbing work back in Detroit. Peter and I both can mimic voices pretty well after we've heard them a time or two."

"Kinch 'ere can do a mean Burkhalter."

"How about you, LeBeau?"

"I can cook, _naturellement_. Before the war, I did _la photographie_ as a hobby. I can sew as well. I am good with animals..."

The small Frenchman's voice trailed off, then he shrugged.

"Whatever there is that needs to be done to shorten this war, I will do to the best of my ability."

"Photography could come in very handy in the line of work we're going in. Newkirk?"

"This might take awhile, Guv. Could we get us some refills on our coffee?"

At Hogan's nod, LeBeau went out and brought the pot back in.

"Well, I'm what some might call a jack o' all trades, sir. I've done a bit o' everything from tailorin' t' safe crackin'. Worked with a circus for a time an' as a stage magician. I can throw knives, know 'ow t' use a bow an' arrow an' I've done a mite o' forgery now an' again. Rest I think we've already covered, sir."

"Klink the only one you can mimic?"

"Oh no sir."

Brushing himself off a bit, Newkirk quoted Winston Churchill using the statesman's distinctive voice - smoothly altering his voice to that of a cultured radio announcer at the end.

" _'I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears, and sweat.'_ This is BBC radio reporting to you live from London."

Newkirk paused, then gave the Colonel an appraising look.

"Mind if we turn that question your direction, Colonel? I mean, I've already seen that yer a bit o' a flim-flam artist."

Hogan just grinned and shrugged.

"Fair enough. I was a bomber pilot but I got to thinking that my 'talents' might be made better use of elsewhere. I did gain a little bit of a reputation as a troublemaker in my youth, but I also got the reputation for being able to get myself out of trouble as well as into it. My commanding officer was one of the ones behind this little scheme and he sounded me out on it. I volunteered and - here I am."

"Newkirk, I'll be going one on one with you to teach you German - Kinch, since you speak both French and German, you teach LeBeau. I need to see progress fast, men. In addition? Newkirk, I want you to get me a layout of the compound including the buildings. On the buildings you can't access the inside of currently, I at least want the outer dimensions and what's supposed to be inside of them. Kinch, I want you and Banks to see if you can get that entrance fixed to where it will be both hidden and accessible. LeBeau, I'd like you to inventory what we have to work with including things that are useable or fixable downstairs."

Hogan glanced at his watch.

"Let's divide into our little study groups from now until lunch. After that, hit your individual projects. I want a tunnel headed for beyond the fence started by the end of the week. We'll need to get out to get our supply drops and to contact the Underground."


	11. Chapter 11

While Hogan had told the men that he wanted to see fast progress, he was very pleasantly surprised to see just how fast that progress was. Newkirk practically drank in his lessons and apparently his long Cooler talks with Schultz had inadvertently taught him more German words and nuances than he'd been aware of. Reflecting on that, it made sense to Hogan. There was nothing to keep a man occupied in the Cooler except conversation and the guard must easily get as bored as the prisoner. As social a man as Schultz had already shown himself to be, Hogan could imagine that the pair had spent many an hour chatting back and forth just to relieve the endless tedium.

They actually ended up stopping the lessons before lunch when they couldn't contain their laughter as Newkirk launched into speaking as Hitler – in German – composing a love letter to Churchill.

"Vinston! Mein Liebchen!"

While LeBeau had trouble speaking German, he understood it well enough to follow the joke and was even having to wipe tears from his eyes. Of course, the fact that Newkirk was having Hitler reciting a love note with the same tone and cadence as the Fuhrer used in a rallying speech made the whole thing just that much funnier.

After lunch, Hogan stepped out for some fresh air and noticed that Newkirk was walking side-by-side with Schultz again. While he still wasn't sure how he felt about that, he noticed that none of the camp guards seemed particularly surprised or bothered by the thin Englishman walking with the large Sergeant. Hogan shook the mental image of Laurel and Hardy out of his mind, but it wasn't easy. He was slightly disappointed that Newkirk wasn't getting on with his assignment though and decided he'd have a talk with him about the urgency after evening roll call.

Before Hogan even had a chance to ask to speak with Newkirk, all three of his core group moved directly to Hogan's office the second after evening roll call was finished and were waiting for him. They surprised him once again. Kinch not only had Bank's drawing in hand, but had already noted what materials they already had and which they needed to obtain or make. LeBeau had an inventory ready as requested – it was in French, but since half of them could read it, Hogan supposed that was fine. As for Newkirk, his smile was downright smug as he passed over a sketch of the camp that made Hogan wonder if the man had a history of bank jobs in his past - it was more detailed than he had hoped for. The distances to the places outside of the fences were estimated, but appeared to be educated guesses as to the distance to and height of the guard towers and other visible structures. Seeing the expression on Hogan's face, Newkirk shrugged.

"Admittedly, I cheated a bit, Guv. I already 'ad a rough sketch on th' camp for where me an' me mates were plannin' on findin' a new country club t' join. I just needed t' fill in a bit o' details. Oh – an' this goes with."

The Corporal had made use of the back of one of the envelopes from his sister and jotted down who was assigned to which barracks. Hogan was a bit surprised to note that even the guards were listed as well as the details of the inside of the guards' barracks. Again, there was that sly smile.

"Spent too much time in th' Cooler o' late t' give you much in th' way o' personality on the newer blokes."

LeBeau moved over to Newkirk's sketch and laid another over top of it.

"You asked about the dogs? The handler brings the guard dogs and changes them out once a week. This is how our current underground area is, __mon__ Colonel. Going from this corner and digging east will take us under the fence in the least amount of time if we do not run into rock."

"I'm impressed, men - doesn't look like I have to worry about enthusiasm."

"We've all been going a little stir-crazy, Colonel. Nice to be able to channel some energy where it might do some good."

Giving Kinch a smile at that, Hogan pulled the sketch for the entrance back up.

"So, you and Banks seem to agree this would work. How long would it take?"

"If we already had all the parts? Week at most. If we have to manufacture what we need, well, that will add to it quite a bit. Likely take a month."

Leaning over the sketch again, Hogan studied in again.

"Ask Banks to step in for a minute, will you?"

Once Banks was in, Hogan tapped his drawing.

"This is excellent work and it's what I want us to shoot for, but is there a more basic way we could do this with materials we have on hand that we use as a starter? Once we're up and running, we can get the other parts through our Underground contacts and upgrade."

"Sure, Colonel. It will take more man-power, but I could make it work."

"Alright. There are currently nine of us. That gives us three teams. Each team will pull a two hour stint a night, rotating which team does what every night. Team 1 will be under Kinch, Team 2 under Newkirk and Team 3 is mine. Night 1 - Team 1 will dig, Team 2 will evac the debris and Team 3 will be keeping an eye up here in case of emergency. Night 2 - Team 2 will dig, 3 will evac and 1 will have the upstairs watch and so on. If we find we can add more work time without being obvious, we'll adjust as necessary. I think two hours a night to start will give us a chance to see where adjustments might be needed."

"Beggin' th' Colonel's pardon, but are we going t' just be pilin' th' debris in th' bunker?"

"For the first tunnel? Yes. Once we have a way outside, that's another detail we'll adjust."


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note for those following – yes, there is a time jump here, because the time period I jumped goes further away from the base story of this particular story arc than I care for. If you're the type that like to read things in chronological order, stop here and go read 'The New Guy' which covers the missing time.

Stirring a few spices into a pot of soup, LeBeau reflected back. In another week, he would reach the end of his first year at Stalag 13. How very transformed everything had become in that year.

Looking over to the table where Newkirk and Kinchloe were playing cards while nearby Colonel Hogan was chatting with Banks, LeBeau definitely viewed all of the changes had been for the better. Newkirk was still skinny, but not skin and bones thin the way he had been before. Their 'conduit' had been up and running for awhile now. In fact, they were waiting for the newest man that had joined the operation to return with some escapees that they were going to help get back to London.

There was a noise from the bunk over the entrance as it smoothly slid upward and the new man, Carter, popped his head up into sight. LeBeau barely refrained from laughing as the move made him think of a marmot sticking its head out from its burrow.

"I'm back, Colonel Hogan. We've got five altogether. Hey, Newkirk – three of them are RAF. They talk kind of funny though. I can't really understand what they're saying much."

Newkirk smirked at that as he shuffled the deck of cards.

"As opposed t' me what speaks th' King's English, Andrew?"

"Well, yeah!"

Laughing at that along with the others, Newkirk laid his cards down and got up. Carter looked puzzled about what everyone else was laughing at.

"I'll go check on th' new blokes, Colonel. Be back in a jif, Kinch."

"I'll keep the cards warm, Pete."

Carter disappeared back down and Newkirk followed. The bunk was left up, though Banks positioned himself by the control so it could be shut quickly in case a guard started in. Then there was an odd noise that made Banks lean over and look down.

Banks' puzzled look drew Hogan's attention, but what got him moving was Carter's sudden yell from downstairs. Within seconds, Hogan, Kinch and LeBeau were headed down. The scene they came in on was rather chaotic. Newkirk was in the process of starting to pick himself back up from the ground while Carter and one of the escapees were holding back another of the escapees, while two others were holding back the last man.

Hogan went straight over to where the two men were being restrained while LeBeau and Kinch moved to help Newkirk to his feet. There was some blood coming from the Englishman's mouth and he didn't look like he was quite sure what had just happened. That struck Hogan as odd. Newkirk could generally account for himself pretty well in a fight.

"What the hell is going on, Carter?"

"Heck if I know, sir. I mean, I got back down here and Newkirk followed. He was just starting to talk to Mitchell here and this guy attacked Newkirk without so much as a word or any warning at all. Heck, Newkirk wasn't even looking his direction. Mitchell here and I pulled him off Newkirk and then that guy over there jumped on Newkirk as well before the other two could get hold of him."

Coldly furious, Hogan narrowed his eyes. All the men still had blacking on their faces from where they'd been outside evading detection. Still there was something familiar? About two seconds later, it all clicked into place.

"Fetherston. And I'd lay odds that other man's Gisbourne. Great - they had to route these two through us. I see time away hasn't improved your disposition any, Group Captain."

"I see he's thoroughly played you for a fool, Hogan."

Not even having heard the men's names before, Carter was totally lost.

"You know these guys, Colonel?"

"Yeah – like bad pennies, they've shown up again."

"What do you want us to do, _mon_ Colonel? They cannot be trusted."

"Kinch, contact London. Let them know we have a situation here with two prisoners in addition to the three escapees."

"Colonel 'ogan? Might I 'ave a word with you, sir?"

Looking back over to Newkirk, Hogan couldn't get a read on the expression on his man's face. Kinch and LeBeau's expressions were easy enough to fathom – they wanted to feed Fetherston to the guard dogs. Or maybe not. LeBeau was fond of the dogs, after all and wouldn't want them to get sick.

"Keep a close eye on that pair. Come on, Newkirk."

Moving with the corporal to where they could speak privately, Hogan waited for Newkirk to take the lead in speaking. He didn't have to wait long.

"Guv'nor, ain't any use in tryin' t' bring charges on 'em two. Fetherston's ruddy peerage an' Gisbourne's gentry. That may not mean a thing in th' States, but it still means a good bit back 'ome. Their family connections an' money will get them off with likely not so much as a slap on th' wrists. Worse, if we try, they might decide t' make trouble for us. An' if they let slip t' th' wrong blokes, we could all be shot."

"That's not right. What happened to all men being created equal?"

Newkirk just shrugged.

"I'm afraid that's only on yer side o' th' pond, Guv. Where I come from, ain't no-one created equal – not even 'em what's from th' same families. There's a good bit o' difference 'tween bein' th' King's first or th' King's second born."

Reaching up to gingerly touch his split lip, Newkirk sighed.

"Not sayin' that I agree with 'ow things are or that I like it, but that's just th' way it is, Colonel. Bloke like me's not gonna change it."

"Still –"

Suddenly Hogan's eyes lit up and a smile formed. Newkirk had not a single clue what sort of idea the Colonel had just come up with, but from that expression, he figured it must be a good one.

"Carter, LeBeau – take our 'guests' to the waiting area. Kinch, get me London. I think it's time to see if they were serious about what they said on that special mission of ours."

Kinch gave Hogan a puzzled look but set about contacting London immediately.

"Goldilocks here. Go ahead, Papa Bear."

"Goldilocks, remember when we found and returned the horn for Little Boy Blue?"

"We do indeed, Papa Bear – that was a first-rate job all around. What of it?"

"We have a situation here with two of our plum puddings disagreeing with one of my cubs - the one that found that horn for you. Was Little Boy Blue serious about wanting to return the favor?"

"He was. Send the details of what you need from us up the line and we'll be back with you within the hour, Papa Bear."

"Roger, Goldilocks. Papa Bear out."

Kinch just raised a brow and crossed his arms as he looked at his smiling Colonel. Hogan didn't make him wait long as he quickly jotted down the details for Kinch to relay to London.

"Get this across to them as fast as you can and let me know the second we get a response."

Taking the note and reading it, Kinch started chuckling as he began to work the telegraph to London. As promised, a reply was back before an hour had passed. Hogan called down Baker to keep an eye on the radio - Kinch was going to want to be present for this. Hogan motioned to Newkirk and the three of them went to join LeBeau and Carter where they were with the five escapees.

From the second they saw the look on Hogan's face, LeBeau knew something was up. Carter didn't quite know the Colonel well enough yet, but by the expectant looks of his teammates he knew things were about to happen. On the flip side, Hogan's broad smile made both Fetherston and Gisbourne uneasy.

"Group Captain Fetherston - Flight Lieutenant Gisbourne? I have the pleasure of informing the two of you that you will be meeting with the Prime Minister himself when you reach London. Oh, and I have a transmission from London for you, Corporal Newkirk. Mind if I read it out loud?"

Not at all sure what the Colonel was doing, Newkirk gave a quck side glance to Kinch who just gave him a faint smile and a nod. That was good enough for Newkirk.

"If you like, Guv'nor. I've no objections."

Fetherston started to say something about insubordination, but a look from Hogan cut him off. Then he began to read, translating the abbreviated speech and substituting the real names for the code names that had been used over the radio. These men had no need to know any of those, after all. Besides, it would be a bit confusing otherwise as the actual message read _'Papa Bear - warm regards and thanks to the lion cub for finding my horn and returning untarnished. Just a token but neither Little Boy Blue or Goldilocks will forget. Little Boy Blue.'_

"Colonel Hogan. Please send my warmest regards to Corporal Newkirk as well as my thanks for his part in the recovery of my cousin from behind enemy lines before the Germans could make use of him in their propaganda. While this is but a small token, be assured that neither myself nor your country will forget the sacrifices that you are making. Winston Churchill."

Looking pleased, Newkirk reflected back on that one. It was the first mission that Hogan had had him take the lead on.

"His cousin was a decent bloke. Even offered t' buy us all a few pints when this war is over."

Hogan just laid his hand on Newkirk's shoulder and continued to smile at the two RAF officers who were now looking a trifle green.

"The Prime Minister sent another message as well, but I won't bother you with the details. Let's just say that he was a little put off by the fact that two British officers attacked a hand-picked member of a multi-national team working under the authority of the Allied Command. By the way, that reminds me - you're both under arrest for several military violations including obstructing operations."

Kinch moved to Newkirk's other side. His smile definitely had a malevolent edge to it.

"I heard he might be lenient and just recommend you for relocation for the duration of the war. But I wouldn't worry. I hear the Falkland Islands are lovely this time of year. You'd even be able to go penguin watching."

Hogan nodded agreement.

"That is, unless he changes his mind and goes back to the thought of putting them on trial for attempting to sabotage our operation here. I know that would be a hard call for me to make. Corporal Mitchell? London has instructed me to inform you that as the senior RAF representative that the two prisoners will be under your command until such time as you arrive back in London. You'll be given help keeping them in line while you're in transit."

Hogan turned the group over to the first stage of the Underground the next night, though this was the first time Hogan was sending anyone out in shackles. As he stood and watched them leave, Hogan was flanked by his men - Kinch and Carter to his right, Newkirk and LeBeau to his left.

"Well Newkirk? Feel any better?"

"Got t' admit I got me a case o' th' warm fuzzies, Guv'nor. Guess it all goes t' prove me ol' Grams was right."

"About what, _mon ami_?"

"Pays t' 'ave friends in 'igh places."


End file.
